


The Shadow of Valor

by SolitaryPeak



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ecthelion loves everyone, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gondolin, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Kindness, Mablung and Ecthelion bond, Rescue Missions, Shyness, battle rescue, helping strangers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolitaryPeak/pseuds/SolitaryPeak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small patrol is attacked and cornered in a Noldorin village near Gondolin, and Ecthelion's guard is their best chance for survival. With his recent failure in protecting the King's sister, Aredhel, still fresh in his mind, he is fearful of failure. But he does not expect to end up on a journey to Doriath, where the Noldor are not welcome. How far will he go for redemption? What surprises will his journey hold? No Copyright infringement intended. Rated T for battle and injury description.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A mission of Importance

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! I wasn't planning this one but here it is. It follows mostly Ecthelion and Glorfindel, and probably Mablung later on in the story. I will update as often as possible, feel free to ask questions! My Khamul/ Witch-king fic is on hold for the time being. It takes place after Aredhel leaves the hidden city and before Tuor shows up with Voronwe. Below is a, OC character list in the event you may need to look back. As characters are introduced they'll be added to the list.
> 
> Alaco- Noldo. Ecthelion's second in command.
> 
> Caledhel- Noldo. Young warrior.

"It is too risky," Ecthelion glanced up at Glorfindel's sharp tone. This meeting was going on far too long. He looked down at the knife he was spinning aimlessly on the table.

"They need assistance, Glorfindel. What are we to do? Leave our people in need to die?" Turgon asked sharply.

"They are greatly outnumbered. To do so would be death to the group you send to their aid."

Ecthelion rolled his eyes and sighed. Time to go. He stood, and Glorfindel's glare followed him.

"I have to be going if we are to get there before they are dead."

"We have not come to a solution yet, Ecthelion."

Turgon ignored Glorfindel and nodded, concern in his blue eyes. "Be careful, that is dangerous territory."

Ecthelion nodded, "of course, my lord. I shall bring them home safe." He turned and left, and Glorfindel followed him from the council room. "Your numbers are too small, they sent word that they are cornered, valar knows how many there could be. You're going into a trap, meldo." (friend)

"Is that your instincts speaking or your fears? I know that if you had predicted my death you would have told me."

Glorfindel sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He was a head shorter than Ecthelion, and he pulled a leaf from the hair on top of his head. "I have predicted nothing."

"We will be alright. Trust me and my judgement."

Glorfindel nodded, and Ecthelion smiled. "I must ready myself."

Glorfindel nodded and Ecthelion started to his quarters. He felt guilty, leaving Glorfindel to worry about him and his well-being, but he and his elite group of warriors were greatly needed. A small group of scouts and several guards were trapped in a village by orcs. They were holding them off for now, but for how long, he did not know. They could be dead already, but he had to try.

Once he got to his room, his servant entered through his private entrance. "You are leaving, sir?"

"Yes, Naergon."

"How long, sir?"

Ecthelion looked over at Naergon, who had his travelling pack in hand. "I am not sure. Possibly for quite a while."

Naergon began to pack tunics and trousers, as well as an extra pair of boots and leggings. It was winter, and Ecthelion stuffed a few cloaks in his bag. He pulled a cloak on and his heavy boots, and took the bag from Naergon.

"Thank you, I shall see you soon."

"Good luck, master Ecthelion." Ecthelion smiled and put his pack on his back. He met his team outside, his horse already prepared for him. His team was trained by him, and was well experienced and practiced. They were the best Gondolin had, and the best chance these people had for survival.

Glorfindel approached his horse, and Ecthelion braced his wrist in a warriors goodbye. "see you soon,

"A lelyalmë!" (let's go) Ecthelion called, and they started toward the village.

They rode until late at night, when the cold began to bite in the wind. It was a starless night, and snow was on its way. A fire was built, and Ecthelion spoke little, thinking of those that needed them. He had a strange feeling deep within. A feeling that something terrible was happening.

"Are you alright?" Ecthelion looked over. It was Alaco with lembas in his hand. Alaco was his second in command, and always knew when something was wrong. He was blunt, bold, and kept his black hair short on one side like the green elves of Ossiriand. Unusual for a Noldo of Gondolin.

"I am fine," Ecthelion said quietly. "Why do you ask?"

"You're staring at nothing," Alaco said with a small grin. His face grew serious, and his smile faded. "We will save them, commander."

Ecthelion nodded, his light grey eyes full of concern. He hoped it was true.

The next morning he was up early, the sun was barely over the horizon and snow was falling silently around them. He brushed snow from his black hair, and began to braid it away from his face. Alaco and Caladhel were the only other men awake and were readying their horses.

Once he finished braiding his hair, he stood and packed his bedroll and readied his horse. He watched Caladhel's tall, lithe figure search his bag for something. His hair was blonde and held bright waves, similar to Glorfindel's. Ecthelion's was black, and pin straight. Ecthelion walked over to him, and grabbed his braid playfully. Caladhel flinched and spun around, his eyes wide.

"It is just me," Ecthelion said quietly, his smile fading.

Caladhel nodded and took a deep breath. "I am sorry, my lord."

"Are you alright?"

"Just a little nervous," he admitted, his green eyes avoiding Ecthelion's.

"It is alright, you are new, young. You do not have the experience the others do. They were afraid once, too. What did I tell you in training?"

"Courage is fighting through your fear, not ignoring it."

"Exactly. Do not worry, have faith in yourself. You know that I do."

Caladhel nodded and blushed. "Thank you, sir." He looked around shyly, and reddened further at Alaco's mischievous smirk.

"Alright, let's get moving!" Ecthelion called to the others, and they were off, leaving behind nothing more than smoking remains of a fire.


	2. With Horror comes Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finally reaches the village, and they do not find what they expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to get through as much of this story as I can until I go back to class on Wednesday, then my updates will slow down a bit. Don't forget to check out my other silmarillion works :)
> 
> Here is the character list, the italic ones are new to this chapter.
> 
> Alaco, Noldo- Ecthelion's second in command
> 
> Caladhel, Noldo- Rookie member of Ecthelion's team
> 
> _Alalme, noldo - Team healer_
> 
> _Ivor, Sinda- Teacher in the village_
> 
> _Caran, man- child from the village_
> 
> _Helce, noldo- only surviving member of the guard_

"I will keep watch, my lord."

Ecthelion looked up at the source of the nervous offer. Caladhel. "It is alright, I do not mind keeping watch. Thank you."

"I offered," Caladhel said, his face flushed, "because I do not think I will be able to sleep tonight."

Ecthelion smiled, "then we are the same tonight. Why not keep watch together?"

Caladhel smiled and sat next to him. He set his sword and bag down next to him, and sat a safe distance from Ecthelion and the tree he leaned against, as if he expected either to bite him at any moment. "Tomorrow we arrive at the village?"

"Yes. It is in a valley, surrounded by deep hills and rolling pastures."

"Is it elvish?"

"Yes, it is a Noldorin village. Our patrols are trapped there along with a few scouts we sent out to keep an eye on Angband." Caladhel nodded. Ecthelion turned his head to look at him, and Caladhel was pulling apart a dead leaf. "What makes you so nervous? You are a fantastic warrior."

He shook his head, "it is not the fighting." He said quietly.

"What is it then? I wish to ease your mind."

"It is just-" He looked up at Ecthelion, his eyes nervous, "I am afraid to fail you, my lord. You have spent much time training me, a timid blacksmith's apprentice. This is my first mission. I do not wish to disappoint you or Alaco- or the team."

Ecthelion smiled, "Caladhel. You are on the team because you are very talented, and work very hard to do what is expected of you. I believe in you, if I did not you would still be making horseshoes. This is not a test. You proved your worth to me time and time again, and now nothing can shake my faith in you. Everyone makes poor decisions sometimes. I have, Alaco has. Making a mistake will not disappoint me, or the team. You have nothing to fear."

Caladhel smiled, and Ecthelion patted his shoulder with a smile. "Please get some rest."

Caladhel nodded and returned to his bedroll with improved confidence in himself, and in his leader.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ecthelion was nervous as they neared the village. These guards, scouts, villagers- they were counting on him. Caladhel rode close behind him, looking around nervously. He was nervous the young elf would panic in the face of true battle. Alaco was laughing behind him with another soldier, and Ecthelion smiled to himself. Maybe it would be successful. They neared a large hill, and Ecthelion knew the village was on the other side. He saw no evidence of battle, of struggle, and his stomach churned nervously. As they peaked the top of the hill, the bitter wind blew Ecthelion's hair into his face. He pushed it away, eagerly searching the land before them. There were bodies strewn around burned down homes, smoke chasing into the sky. They were too late, and judging by the smoke, just barely.

His mouth fell open, and his heart slammed against his ribcage. He started toward the field. Bodies lay around, frozen in terror, blood spattered over their armor and faces. They littered what was once a village of families, filled with joy and laughter.

"By the valar-" Alaco said, his face grim. Ecthelion got off his horse, and approached the charred field. Gondolin's soldiers were scattered among the dead.

"This cannot be," Ecthelion whispered, his eyes wide in horror. Alaco walked into his field of vision, his gaze one of concern. "Search for survivors." Alaco nodded, and the men solemnly began their futile task. It was unseasonably cold, even for a winter in the north. An injured elf would quickly succumb. He caught Caladhel as he approached the village. "Start a fire. We cannot bury the dead in the frozen ground."

"Yes, sir," he said quietly, and left him to his thoughts.

Alaco calling to him broke him from his reverie. "My Lord!"

Ecthelion ran toward the frantic call, and followed the road that ran through the destroyed village. He spotted Ecthelion and a sitting soldier, and ran over to them. The soldier's face and leg were bloodied, and his color was pallid. He was leaning heavily on Alaco, but was alive. That was what was important.

His light brown hair was soaked in blood, and Ecthelion took off his glove and touched the back of his head. His hand came away bloodied, and he sighed and washed his hand in the snow. What's your name?" He asked the soldier.

"Helce," he choked, "My lord."

Ecthelion turned toward his second, "Make camp, we stay here for the night."

Alaco nodded and ran off. Ecthelion took off his cloak and wrapped it around Helce before lifting him into his arms. None accompanied them on their walk back except the sound of Ecthelion's footsteps in the frozen snow and Helce's ragged breathing. Once they were in sight of the other soldiers, they rushed over to help. Alalme, the group's healer, had a stretcher put together. He set him down, and Alalme stuffed a rolled up tunic under his head. Ecthelion sat next to the soldier and watched the others search. He spotted one of his men coming toward him, and he stood. It was Caladhel and he came over the hill with a young boy in his arms, and a woman walking by his side. Ecthelion watched as they grew closer, and Caladhel set the boy down on another stretcher.

"He is not of the eldar, my lord." Ecthelion's eyes widened, and he knelt down and moved hair from the boy's ear. He was a man. He touched the boy's bare wrist, and it was ice cold to the touch.

"Get blankets, Cloaks. As many as you can." Caladhel nodded and dashed off. Ecthelion knew little of men, only that they were fragile and susceptible to getting sick from extreme temperatures. He put his ear to the boy's chest, and heard the weak pitter pat of his heartbeat. He dragged the stretcher closer to the fire, and rubbed the boys arms. Caladhel returned with blankets, and he swaddled the boy in them the best he could. There was not much more he knew, they would have to simply try. He remembered the woman and looked up at her. She was an elf, unmistakably. Her clothing bore the crest of Doriath, and her long white-blonde hair was falling out of its elegant braid. Her arm and face were both bleeding, and Ecthelion's Sindarin was a little rusty. "Please, sit." She did, and he wrapped one of the blankets around her. Her steel blue eyes pierced all they fell on, and Ecthelion swallowed sharply. "Were you in the village when it was attacked?"

She nodded, "I taught the children here," she said, her voice deep with sorrow.

"Was this boy here too?"

"Yes. He was a servant of a wealthy family here, I do not remember their names. He attended school, and was a good student."

"What is your name?" Ecthelion asked curiously.

"Ivor, and his is Caran. I do not know how he ended up here, instead of with his people, but I know little of caring for the children of men."

"I am Ecthelion, and we will help you how we can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as always! Please review/leave kudos- something to let me know its being read! :)


	3. To Trust

An hour later Helce was on a stretcher made by Alalme and was properly attached to the horse. He was half asleep under a blanket with bandages wrapped around his head. The child was also on a stretcher, unconscious still. Ivor was in a cloak, awkwardly standing next to Ecthelion's horse.

Ecthelion did not like his decision, but it had to be made. "Lady Ivor, Caladhel, Alaco, Caran, and I will go to Doriath, to return them to their home."

"The child is human," Alaco said.

Ecthelion turned toward Ivor, and she did not hesitate, "I am all he knows, now. I will gladly take him in."

Alaco nodded and they packed the rest of their things before being entirely ready to split and continue on their way. Ecthelion knelt down and spoke quietly to Helce, his hand on his forehead. "You are safe, I will see you soon, son of Gondolin."

"Thank you, my lord," he whispered quietly and Ecthelion smiled and stood. He nodded to the other half of the group and they started toward Gondolin. Ecthelion mounted his own horse, and Caladhel helped Ivor get behind him. They then began their long journey south toward Doriath.

He had only ever been to Doriath once, and was not allowed inside the girdle. But he had met Mablung and Beleg, and he hoped he would run into them again. They would be understanding. He always thought that Gondolin and Doriath had much in common. They were locked away to the common outsider, and were prideful of their people and their culture, as well as their leaders.

"What is it that you taught?" Ecthelion asked Ivor after a time. She rested her chin on his shoulder.

"All subjects, history, writing, math and astronomy. Sindarin."

Her Sindarin accent was heavy, but her quenya was perfect. "Does the boy speak Quenya?"

"No. Sindarin. He does not remember where he is from. I have asked him and he has no memory of life before servitude."

"Was he treated well?"

"No. He frequently came to me with cuts and bruises. He never seemed to be rested. He spent many days at my home, afraid to return to his own," she said sadly.

"That's terrible," Ecthelion said. He could not imagine the child's pain.

"How old is he?"

"I believe he is eight."

Ecthelion's eyebrows rose. An eight-year-old elfling would be far smaller than this child.

They rode in silence for a time, until it grew dark and they stopped for the night. "Search the area, create a perimeter," Ecthelion commanded and Alaco and Caladhel walked into the forest without protest. Ivor sat on the ground and untied the boy's stretcher. Her touch was so soft, so gentle. That was something he did not see often in the fire of war. Caladhel clearing his throat snapped him from his daydreaming, and he turned to look at him.

"Perimeter is set, sir. There's a hot spring a few hundred yards away."

"Excellent. Ivor, would you like to bathe?"

She looked over to him, "sure."

"You two stay with the child, we will switch off when I return."

They both nodded, and Ecthelion walked a few steps behind her. Her steps were careful and deliberate, and he kept his eyes on the forest. He did not know this area, and he felt uneasy. There was only three of them, an unarmed elleth and a child. They were quite vulnerable.

They reached the spring, and Ecthelion turned around and sat behind a tree. She chuckled, "you have done this before."

"Many times," he smiled, "the princess liked to go hunting often."

"The Princess?"

"Yes, Princess Aredhel." He said quietly, picking at the grass.

"Why is it past tense? Does she no longer enjoy hunting?"

"She, um-" He sighed. He didn't like telling people of his failures. He heard the water surround her.

"You can turn around if you want."

He stood and turned toward the spring. Her light shoulders were all that was visible to him, aside from the stars that danced on the ripples of the water. He sat close to the shore. "We lost her, on a journey. The fog was very thick, and she did not respond to our calls-"

"I am very sorry. That must be terribly hard for you."

"I asked to be relieved, but here I am."

"It is not your fault," she said quietly, "From what I have learned about you in the short time I have known you, I can tell that you must have done everything possible to find her. You cannot punish yourself forever. She is an adult, and you cannot be solely responsible for her fate."

He nodded, and she laughed, "I will get out now, so that you may have your turn."

"That is alright-"

"I know how to use a sword, I am not helpless. Come, turn around." He stood and turned around, and he heard her walk up onto the shore. She pulled her dress and cloak on, and she walked up behind him and pulled his sword from its scabbard. He jumped, and he turned and smiled at her mischievous face. "Your turn."

He smiled, "Turn around."

She did, and he pulled off his cloak and robes. He did not realize how sore his muscles were until the warm water surrounded his arms and back. He sighed in relief and she turned around. "This is a beautiful sword."

"Orcrist is its name," he said, his eyes closed in bliss. He opened his eyes to look at the sickle of stars that watched over them.

"It is splendid," she said, her voice soft.

He was soon finished, and got out and put his clothes back on. They walked back to the camp, and Caladhel and Alaco left to take their turn. The boy was still asleep, and Ivor checked his temperature. "I will go and gather hauberim for him. It is a herb that grows on the edge of forests similar to this one. He will need it for the headache he will wake up with."

"You must not go alone," he said, concerned.

"I will be right back, I promise I will be alright."

He handed her orcrist, and she disappeared into the dark. He stared at the fire until the boy stirred. Ecthelion's gaze shot to him nervously, and Caran's eyes blinked open. Caran squinted in the firelight, and jumped at the sight of Ecthelion.

"No, it is alright," Ecthelion said softly, raising his hands in surrender.

The boy looked terrified and cried out in pain as he tried to rise. Ecthelion put out his hand for him to stop, and the boy flinched away. "Ivor!" he cried.

"She is coming," Ecthelion said nervously, unsure the boy was understanding him at all. Ivor appeared, a handful of herbs in her hand. Caran began to cry, and she smiled softly and rushed to his side.

"I told you he would be in pain when he woke," she chuckled to Ecthelion. How could she be so relaxed with such a fragile child crying? There were so many possibilities of illness- or perhaps something was broken. She put her hands on either side of his face, "what hurts?"

"My head," he cried, "and my stomach."

"Do you have any food for him?" She asked Ecthelion. He nodded and pulled a cake of lembas from his pack. She held the waterskin to Caran's lips. He drank eagerly and ate his share of the lembas. She mixed the herbs into the waterskin and helped him drink it again, and he continued to cry softly. She turned to Ecthelion, "this is Ecthelion, he is our friend." Caran nodded, and she felt his forehead. "Are you cold? Hot? Hungry?"

"I'm cold," he shivered, his tears stopped.

She pulled him from the stretcher and sat close to the fire with him in her arms. She made sure he was wrapped well in the blankets and rubbed his arms, "everything is going to be ok, do not worry." Caladhel and Alaco came into the clearing, scaring Caran again. They both stepped back, alarmed. They were just as uneasy with him as Ecthelion was. "More friends, they are helping us," she said quietly, and Caran watched them with wide eyes. Ecthelion was nervous. They had a long way to go, and the last thing he wanted was for something to happen to the child, or to Ivor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please review! I'll be alternating between this and Penance and Mercy.


	4. Doriath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mablung and Ecthelion move closer to one another, and to healing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alaco, Noldo- Ecthelion's second in command
> 
> Caladhel, Noldo- Rookie member of Ecthelion's team
> 
> Alalme, noldo - Team healer
> 
> Ivor, Sinda- Teacher in the village
> 
> Caran, man- child from the village
> 
> Helce, noldo- only surviving member of the guard

The water was cool, and drew the painful heat from his aching feet. He was sore, yes, that was common in the guard and he was used to it, but he wished nothing more than to return home and speak to Thingol again about being relieved. He couldn't be trusted with the responsibility he had been given, clearly. He pulled his aching feet from the stream and dried them off with his cloak. He pulled his boots back on and laced them tight before picking up his sword and starting back toward Menegroth. They were on leave for the week, and Mablung had been dreading it. Beleg was still far off somewhere with Turin, and his heart ached for his company. Beleg held the wisdom and the kindness to ease Mablung's invisible wounds, and he was gone.

The guards opened the gate as he approached, and Mablung nodded to them in solemn appreciation. "Elu Thingol is in the throne room, my lord." One of them said and he bowed his head, not sure who had said it. He swept through the corridors, his mind on a single target. He was not interested in pleasantries with anyone, he was interested in speaking to Elu Thingol. The citadel guard opened the towering door to the throne room, and Mablung's eyes found those of the King. He approached, and fell to one knee before him.

"My Lord." He said, his hand on his chest.

"Mablung," Thingol mused, "You have time free for rest and yet you come before me still in your armor."

"Yes my lord." He murmured.

"Why do you not enjoy yourself? In two days' time is the harvest festival, yet sadness overwhelms you."

"I failed you, hir vuin. My position is one of too much responsibility for-"

"Enough of this," Thingol commanded, his voice low. Mablung's head fell, and Thingol rose and knelt on the ground to face him. "This is not your doing." His voice was kind.

"They was in my care, my lord. I was responsible for them-"

"You cannot save everyone. You cannot protect everyone from harm. What is important is that you did everything in your power to save them, no one blames you. You are not infallible, and you must forgive yourself." Mablung looked up at him, his dark eyes filled with tears. He heard the doors open and Thingol stood, his thigh brushing Mablung's ear. "Lord Oropher," Thingol greeted, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Hir vuin, I am sorry to interrupt."

"Give us a moment," Thingol demanded and Mablung glanced back to see Oropher's white hair sweep to the floor and follow him out of the throne room. Mablung stood, and Thingol's sapphire eyes were solemn. "It pains me to see you criticize yourself so. It is now I wish that Beleg was here."

"As do I."

"Take this week, rest your mind. Come to me again if you need me."

"Thank you, hir vuin." He bowed and Thingol returned to his throne. Mablung half jogged to the door, and Oropher was standing on the other side, waiting for him to exit.

"Captain," he bowed humbly.

"Lord Oropher." Mablung returned with respect and aimed for the forest.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ecthelion was pleased with their progress. They had travelled far in two days, and the boy was improving in health. He was pleasant now that he was comfortable in their presence, and he spent a fair amount of their travels on Alaco's back. They were beginning to enter the forest, and Ivor walked with Ecthelion behind the group. Caran was on Alaco's shoulders yet again, smiling in the mosaic sunshine filtering through the leaves. Ivor was smiling, watching him, and Ecthelion couldn't hide his own. The child was delightful, and Ivor was great company. He enjoyed her stories, and she was more than willing to listen to his stories as well. He couldn't help but worry, however, that with the danger that spread through Beleriand, that something bad would happen. Similar to what happened to Aredhel.

She asked the boy a question, and he nodded and responded in Sindarin. "He says he is having a wonderful time."

Ecthelion chuckled, "I am glad that he is enjoying himself."

Her face fell, "I do not know how the guard will react at the sight of us."

Ecthelion shrugged, "regardless. We will clarify and they will allow us to leave I am sure." She brushed her hair back, and he noted a deep scar running from her elbow to her wrist. She noticed his attention on her scar, and rubbed her hand over the scar self-consciously. "I am sorry I-"

"Do not be sorry-"

There was a scream, and Ecthelion drew his sword, his eyes wide and his ears perked up, listening for an enemy. Instead of an orc or a werewolf, Alaco ran toward them from ahead, Caran crying in his arms. "Ecthelion it is Caladhel-"

Ivor rushed toward the hysterical child, and Ecthelion ran toward Caladhel's screams. Through the clearing Caladhel was on his back, his forehead glistening with sweat. His calf was gushing blood, a bear trap on his leg. He looked toward Ecthelion, his jaw clenched.

"Captain!" he cried. "Captain- ahh," he cried, his leg shifting.

Ecthelion sheathed his sword and pulled out his dagger. Caladhel fell back onto the grass and sobbed. Ecthelion cut his leggings and pulled the ruined fabric from the wound. The points were wide and sharp, and were buried deep in Caladhel's leg. "Give me, give me one of your arrows," Ecthelion stuttered, and Alaco pulled one from his quiver and handed it to him with shaking hands. He pulled the tip from the shaft, and shoved it into the hinge of the trap. Caladhel whimpered, and Ecthelion used the arrowhead to twist the screw and pull apart the hinge. He took each half of the trap in his hand, and looked at Caladhel.

"Ánin apsenë." (Forgive me)

"Man cárat?," (What are you doing?) he cried, and Ecthelion pulled the trap from his calf. He howled, his back arched and his torso shook in agony. He wailed as Ecthelion poured water onto the wounds, and while he tore his cloak and wrapped it around his calf. He looked up to Alaco, who looked like he was going to be sick. Ecthelion furrwed his eyebrows in confusion, until he saw the outline of the elf behind him, an arrow pointed at the back of his head. Ecthelion stood, and a dozen bows arched from within the forest. One of them stepped into the clearing and pushed his hood down onto his shoulders. His black hair was long and lightly curly. He had dark circles under his grey eyes and angular features that made him look perpetually angry. Ecthelion looked back at Ivor, and Caran was in her arms, crying softly.

"Hir nin," She began, and explained in quick and desperate Sindarin. The elf watched Ecthelion as she spoke, and his expression softened as she went on.

"We do not usually allow the Noldor to live within our borders," The elf said in broken Quenya.

"The noldor do not usually seek company within your borders," Ecthelion replied coolly. "However we have befriended one of your own, and wanted to ensure she made it back safely."

"I am Mablung, Captain to the King and Marchwarden of the forest of Doriath. I thank you for your kindness."

Ecthelion bowed his head, "I am Ecthelion of the Fountain, Warden of Gondolin."

Mablung's eyebrows rose, and he looked down at Caladhel. "Let us get him to a healer, yes?"

Ecthelion nodded gratefully, and he lifted Caladhel into his arms, making him groan. He couldn't however, ignore the churning in his stomach at the thought of going into a kingdom full of those that hated his people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delay, I got wrapped up in other stories of mine... Ecthelion and Mablung will begin to heal off of each other next. Please review


	5. Menegroth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they have arrived in Doriath, will they be welcomed or imprisoned?

Ecthelion followed Mablung, Caladhel quivering in his arms. He was nervous, leading his group into such unfriendly territory. Mablung’s armor had an emerald cape attached at the back, and it licked at Ecthelion’s knees. Mablung put his hand in one of his pockets and pulled out a handful of nuts, tossing them into his mouth. Ecthelion cocked his head. He’d never seen such nuts before. Ecthelion could smell them, and his stomach growled. Ecthelion turned to look at Alaco, and his face was serene. Like someone walking to their demise. Ecthelion shook his head, and turned to follow Mablung again. They were not going to die.   
Ivor looked calm, and had a terrified Caran huddled in her arms. They entered a cavern, coated in glittering crystals. Two heavily armored guards stood on either side of the cavern, and turned simultaneously to acknowledge the arrival of their master. Mablung bowed his head to them and they dropped to one knee as he walked by them. Ecthelion’s armor was intricate, pristine, and expensive. Mablung’s had all of these qualities as well, but within his, lie a certain respect Ecthelion had not seen in the noldor. Through the caves of colored crystal there was a large gate. Two guards pulled it open, and allowed them to enter.   
Mablung turned to them, his dark hair hanging in his face. He pushed it away, revealing his stormy eyes again to them. “Welcome to Menegroth.”   
Ecthelion looked beyond him, and his heart skipped. It was an underground labyrinth of light. Gardens and trees framed a waterfall and the rivers trail. Ivy grew up every wall, and circled each post, a trail of violets in their wake. It was a wonderland of thousands of years of tending. Of generations of elves. Ecthelion’s breath was caught in his throat.   
“I will lead you to my king,” Mablung said, his eyes pleased with Ecthelion’s reaction. Ecthelion bobbed his head, still looking around him.   
They followed Mablung through the halls, each one more spectacular than the last. Gems, crystals, flowers, fountains. The ceilings grew high, and fine paintings of war and blessings covered the walls. The guards wore different armor, more like Mablung’s. The guards opened an incredibly large carved door, and Thingol could be seen sitting on his throne, a few dozen steps from the ground. Light shone down on his throne, casting light over the gentle folds of his satin cape, which billowed down the steps beside him. The smooth black floor shone like water, missing any imperfection. A dozen guards lined the circular throne room, and looked to Mablung as they entered. They approached the base of the steps, and Mablung dropped to his knees. The other guards did as well, and Ecthelion followed suit, leading his own group to do the same. Ecthelion looked up at the King, and his sapphire eyes were looking at the group. His hair was silver, glimmering in the light. He wore a crown of silver and gold vines, encircling his head and falling behind his ears.   
“Hir vuin,” Mablung started, and proceeded to tell the king about their journey.   
Thingol’s face did not change, but he inclined his head. “So you are Ecthelion, of the hidden city of Gondolin?”   
Ecthelion stood, his hand over his chest. He was surprised the king spoke such perfect quenya. “Yes, my lord.”  
Thingol nodded, “I have spoken to King Turgon in the past. He is a respectable king. As were your actions in bringing back one of our own in a time of danger. We wish for you to stay, rest, and replenish your supplies. We will give you horses, and treat your teammate for his injuries."   
Ecthelion turned, and Caladhel was gone. His heart skipped a beat. He was probably terrified.   
“Mablung will show you to the wing you and your team can stay in. Please, let us know if there is anything more you need.” Thingol finished.  
Ecthelion bowed his head, “Thank you for your generosity, my lord. We are humbled by your magnificent city.”  
Thingol’s eyes twinkled. “One of Gondolin compliments Menegroth? That is a compliment indeed.”  
Ecthelion bowed and turned to follow Mablung back out of the chamber. It was just Ecthelion, Alaco, and Mablung. Mablung turned and allowed Ecthelion to walk beside him. He smelled of forest musk and of the nuts he had been eating, and he turned to Ecthelion.   
“Are you hungry?”  
“I must admit we are,” Ecthelion said.   
“Once you are settled I will have someone bring you some food.”  
“Thank you, Captain.”   
Mablung nodded, and Ecthelion remembered, “However, I would like to go to Caladhel first. He is young, and I imagine he is fearful.”  
“Of course, how thoughtless of me. Would you like to go there now?”  
Ecthelion nodded and Mablung turned down an adjacent hallway, and the healing ward was almost immediately on their right. They entered, and there were many rooms. Mablung asked one of the healers for Caladhel. He waved them forward and led them into a room. A few healers were buzzing around Caladhel, and he gasped at the sight of Ecthelion.  
“My lord! I- I thought-“   
Ecthelion took his hand, and brushed his hand over Caladhel’s damp hair. “I know. It is alright. They are going to help us.”  
“My leg-“  
“I know.” Ecthelion said and Alaco looked nervous. His leg was mangled and covered in blood. “But it is going to be alright.”  
Mablung was leaned against the doorframe, and he spoke to one of the healers as he walked by. “The healers say that they must reset the bone, and then stitch the wound.”  
Caladhel cried out and pawed at Ecthelion’s arm.  
Mablung gave Ecthelion an apologetic look, and Ecthelion rested his hand on Caladhel’s forehead.   
“My Lord,” Caladhel gasped, his mouth open in pain as the healers wiped blood from his leg. “Please.”  
“It will be over soon, and you will rest, and then we will go home when you are well enough.”  
“I want to go home,” Caladhel moaned, and the healer said something to Mablung.   
“He is ready to set the leg,” Mablung translated.  
Caladhel shook his head violently, tears in his eyes.   
“It is going to be alright, Caladhel, I promise,” Ecthelion said, stepping in front of him to block his view of the healer. Ecthelion felt a jerk, and Caladhel cried out, his back arched in pain. Ecthelion turned, and two healers were wrestling his bone back into place. It was in place in moments, and they were strapping his leg to a splint.   
“Ecthelion,” Caladhel gasped, squeezing Ecthelion’s forearm.   
Ecthelion squeezed his hand, “the worst is over, you are doing just fine.”  
The healers stitched up his leg, and Ecthelion spoke quietly to Caladhel, running his hand through his sweat-soaked hair.   
“They would like to keep him here for a few days, to watch the leg,” Mablung said and Ecthelion nodded.   
“I will be back in the morning, get some rest. I am only down the hall.”  
Caladhel nodded, and Alaco ran his hand over Caladhel’s head before they followed Mablung from the room. Mablung guided them down the hall and into a guarded door. Within there was a large sitting room. It had fine velvet seats and three doors. Mablung gestured to the larger one, and Ecthelion walked over to it. Before him lay an oversized bed with a silver frame. The bedposts nearly reached the ceiling and held back satin curtains that fell from the ceiling.   
“I hope it is acceptable.”  
“Yes, thank you.” Ecthelion grinned. It was almost finer than his own quarters in Gondolin.   
“You and your second have been invited to dinner with Elu Thingol.” Mablung said.  
“We accept. Where should we go?”  
“I will be going as well, I can return for you if you wish.”  
“We would appreciate that, thank you.”  
Mablung bowed his head, “I will be back in an hour or so.”  
Ecthelion nodded and Mablung swept from the room and into the hall. Ecthelion turned to Alaco, who was drinking wine from the caste in their sitting room.  
“There is something wrong with him, Captain Mablung,” Alaco said.  
Ecthelion agreed, “Yes he seemed very, sad.”  
“Grieving.”   
“Grieving,” Ecthelion mused aloud.   
Alaco was already in the bathroom, and Ecthelion followed. It was entirely light marble, with a skylight above the oversized bathtub. A number of different soaps and salts and oils lined the bath. Alaco smirked to Ecthelion.   
“Sir if-“  
“Take your bath, you deserve it.”   
Alaco smiled and Ecthelion left him to his bath. He worried about Ivor and Caran, and wished to see them again. He looked through the drawer, where fine clothing of pastel silks waited for him. He pulled the ties from his braids, and lifted the comb from the dresser. He pulled the weeks’ worth of tangles from his black tresses. He wondered if Ivor and Caran would be at this dinner. Soon Alaco was behind him, a towel around his waist.   
“Sir, are there any clothes-“  
“Yes, in the drawers.”   
Alaco opened one of Ecthelion’s drawers and held the tunic up to his chest. Ecthelion walked past him and into the bathroom. Alaco had drawn him a bath, and petals of pinks and reds floated on the water. Ecthelion smiled, and pulled off his torn, dirty uniform. He climbed into the bath, the warm water embracing his sore, cold muscles. He sighed as he lowered himself into the water, and the smell of rose hips and lavender filled his nose. He slid down, allowing the water to envelope his hair, freeing the dirt and grime. He took the soap off of the side of the bath and scrubbed his skin free of filth and the worries of the past few weeks. Ivor and the child were safe, and that was what mattered.   
Once he had scrubbed his body and hair of filth he pulled a towel around himself and headed back into his room. Alaco was on the sofa in the sitting room. He was wearing an orange tunic that had gold accents and brown leggings, with tall brown boots adorning his feet. His hair was hanging freely, and he looked back at Ecthelion.  
“You look better,” Alaco grinned.  
“So do you, but you need to do something with your hair,” Ecthelion said before walking into his room and pulling open the drawer. He chose a deep blue tunic and black leggings with his own lace up black boots. He pulled a satin cloak over his shoulders and attached it to the shoulders of the tunic. He braided his own hair into his usual webbing of twists and turns. He reentered the sitting room and Alaco whistled.   
“You look great, that is quite a fine braid.”  
“It is for special occasions. Now let’s fix yours.”  
Ecthelion took his light hair in his hands, and twisted half of it quickly into a fishtail braid. Alaco looked back at him gratefully, and Ecthelion smirked.   
“I have always said I am like a mother to you all.”  
“Very funny,” Alaco smirked, and there was a knock at the door. Alaco rose to answer it. Mablung stood before them, dressed in burgundy. His curly hair was partially held back by an intricate braid. He wore a long tapered cloak of black satin, and he looked more tired than before. Ecthelion nodded to him, and his hand ghosted over the handle of his sword instinctively.   
“Are you both ready?”  
Ecthelion nodded, and followed Mablung out the door, Alaco trailing close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading! Please review, I don't bite :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please review, subscribe, follow, leave kudos- something to let me know you liked it if you did! :)


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